


Return and Restart

by QuincytheHen



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Has OCs oops, In a way, Lots Of Sad, M/M, only for the reincarnates tho, rating will go up as needed, so i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 04:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1765468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuincytheHen/pseuds/QuincytheHen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aoba had assured him time and time again that the stars would not fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return and Restart

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a prologue/background.

Aoba had assured him time and time again that the stars would not fall.

And they hadn't, not then. Clear keeps his umbrella in his pocket until it rains. He covers Aoba with the transparent plastic and holds him close until they arrive home. They sit in Aoba's room until the rain stops and Clear knows that he can go nowhere close to heaven, but maybe Aoba's arms and lips and voice are just as spectacular.

 Clear's stars do fall, eventually. They tumble from the sky and scream  _why, why, why_  on the away down and then explode in light that caused panic and chaos to warp Clear's mind and body. Every star crashed into someone dear to him, starting with Tae-san and then Koujaku and then Aoba.

 Aoba was gone, a dull burn in the light of a million dimming stars and he left no trace. In his place was a bitter marking in Clear’s sky where he should have been but is no longer.

 He put his mask back on after that. His scowl frightened those who were near him, so it was better to hide his face.

 Ren was the last to leave him. Clear had memorized how to fix the poor dog’s most common malfunctions and how to replace broken mechanisms, but technology moved on unaware of emotional attachments. By then, the parts used to keep Ren going had been pulled off the market, and Ren followed suit.

 Clear buried him near Aoba. He marked the small grave with glass and stones and hoped desperately that maybe beings like Ren and himself had souls and they would follow Aoba wherever he went after this life had ended, but knew that it was simply his grief placing fantasies into his head.

 He searched  _so hard_  for purpose again. He traveled the best he could, finding it difficult to leave the island he’s called home ever since he’d been conceived, but he had to find something,  _anything_  that would remotely bring light to the suddenly dark world.

 Two years in Germany had proven that Noiz had a sickness that went without treatment and caused an untimely demise. The tombstone was made from sparkling black marble and bore Noiz’s actual name, which Clear refused to voice because it didn’t match the boy’s spirit in the least. He sat next to the grave for hours and simply talked. What about, he couldn’t remember, but he babbled on and on until his jaw ached and his face was damp from tears. He left the country shortly after.

He found Mink’s grave after about three years of search. It was unmarked, but the slight haphazardly strewn pink feathers and pretty glass beads that surrounded the site were unmistakable. He cried again and again and wondered why he didn’t realize time was cruel and creeping up behind him, at all times.

 Returning to the island proved to be difficult. Aoba’s house was still there, albeit in bad condition due to the length of Clear’s journey. He cleaned as much as possible, but it wasn’t really safe for humans to live in. This was fine, Clear wasn’t human. He could live in the house just fine. He slept in Aoba’s bed and tried to imagine the smell that used to cling to the fabric and found it gone. He visited Tae-san, Ren and Aoba daily. He talked to them about his day and told them how much he missed them. He recalled old memories and brought old pictures to show them. He sang them songs about the colors of sunsets, of the smell of rain after dark, and jellyfish.

 He noticed that every time he came, parts of the lettering on each stone chipped a little more. He tried fixing them to the best of his ability, but with little luck.

He could feel the pain in the pit of his stomach that told him he, once again, was truly, utterly alone. Possibly for good this time.

 He felt anger, but then realized it was simulated.

 He felt sadness, and realized that’s all he’d ever feel again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! uwu I'll try to update this one at least weekly, maybe. Possibly every Saturday? We'll see


End file.
